sound he made was suspiciously close to a snort. “The chief doesn’t talk to me. And Captain Morales wasn’t in the mood for details when we spoke.”
She was sidetracked by his words. “Captain Morales? Eduardo Morales?”
“Yeah. Why?”
Surprised delight filled her. “When’d he get his bars? I hadn’t heard about his promotion.” If she’d gotten in touch with friends since she’d been back, maybe she’d have caught up on department gossip. But first she’d been focused on recovery and rehab for the physical wounds and then . . . The thought skittered across her mind before she had a chance to slam that mental door shut.
Then she’d been licking her emotional wounds.
“How do you know Morales?” He did a quick right on red in an effort, she suspected, to avoid waiting for the light.
“I was eight years on the force here before joining Raiker Forensics five years ago. Worked out of the Major Crimes Unit—Robbery and Burglary.” Amazing that the words would be accompanied by a tug of nostalgia. “Morales and I were tapped for special duty on a Violent Offenders task force for several months. He’s a good cop. How long have you worked with him?”
“Just a couple months.” And it was clear that he was nowhere close yet to deciding if he shared her opinion of the captain. He shot her another sidelong glance. “You don’t look like a cop.”
“Chances are if I’d been knocking at your door at the crack of dawn, you wouldn’t roll out of bed looking much like one either.” She gave him a bland smile. “Unless you sleep with your shield pinned to your . . . chest.”
Amazingly, his teeth flashed, although he didn’t shift his attention away from his driving. “So you were on the job. But not homicide. Makes me wonder why Wessels wants you tagging along for this.”
“My experience has broadened since leaving the force.” And now it was her turn to go silent and brooding. Nothing could be gained from this outing, unless it was ammunition for her ongoing argument with Raiker. She was done with this work. The only question was why her boss remained unconvinced.
Risa recognized the area of town McGuire drove to as one that used to be the haven of young drug users who wanted a remote place to get high. But it was deserted now, save for the police presence. The crime scene unit van was parked next to an unmarked car, and there were four other black-and-whites nearby. They got out of the car and made their way through a heavily wooded area before entering a clearing. It looked like the scene was secured and taped off, but those details were noted with a distant part of her brain.
Her focus was fixed on the blackened corpse lying inside the police tape.
A CSU tech was snapping photographs, and another man was kneeling next to the body, fiddling with a machine she couldn’t make out from here. But those observations registered only dimly. It was the victim who consumed her attention.
Because her palms had gone suddenly, inexplicably damp, she wiped them on her pants. And wished once more that she were anywhere but here.
“Which one of you took the call?” McGuire stopped outside the tape and scanned the half-dozen uniforms in the vicinity.
“That’d be us.” Two men stepped forward, both of them casting Risa a questioning gaze. One was tall and beefy, a good six inches taller than McGuire. The speaker was several inches shy of Risa’s five-ten height. With his thick neck, skinny limbs, and sturdy torso, he bore an unfortunate resemblance to SpongeBob, of cartoon fame. “Officer’s Tready and Lutz.” A jerk of his thumb indicated his partner as the former.
“Detective Nate McGuire. Homicide.”
The flash of Nate’s shield seemed to only partially pacify the man. He was still eyeing Risa quizzically.
“So run it down for me.” McGuire’s tone held enough of an edge that it captured Lutz’s total focus.
“The lady who found it—Heather Bixby’s her name—was out walking her dog. Wasn’t sure what it was, but the body was still smoking when she came upon it. She called nine-one-one. Tready took her statement. She’s waiting over in the car there.”
“Walking her dog in this area? Alone, while it was still dark?” Doubt dripped from McGuire’s tone as he shot a look at the car the officer had indicated. Risa seconded his disbelief. Philadelphia had dozens of parks, many of them updated with miles of paved trails. There was one within walking distance of here.